


Of Lilies, Asphodels, and Daffodils

by Wayward_Weary_butWonderfilled



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9549305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Weary_butWonderfilled/pseuds/Wayward_Weary_butWonderfilled
Summary: Based on an au prompt on tumblr. Basically, Sam has just lost Jess and steals flowers from Gabriel's garden to take to her when he visits the cemetary.





	

Sam stooped down to pluck a few yellow and white flowers from the garden in front of his neighbor’s house. The man didn't seem to mind, and they were Jessica’s favorite. Sam was pretty sure he’d been caught by the man who lived here, and he hasn't said anything. 

 

Until now, apparently. 

 

The house door opened and Sam straightened up quickly. As an afterthought, he hid the flowers behind his back, as if that would actually help when the owner—who was stalking down his driveway now—had already seen him picking the flowers. The owner of the garden was, well, pretty short. And also good looking. Really good looking. 

 

As soon as he thought that, he felt a pang in his chest. Just thinking about it felt like betrayal. He sighed inwardly, shook his head, and focused once again on the task at hand. 

 

“I, uh—” 

 

“You have been taking flowers from my garden for like, weeks now.”

 

The short man didn't seem near as pissed off as Sam had expected him to be. 

 

“Those are really pretty flowers. I'm coming with you.” 

 

Sam gawked. “You—what?”

 

“I'm coming with you. I have to make sure the girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft. She is, right?” 

 

Sam was a bit behind. The guy was going to come with him? Oh shit, he must think—

 

Crap. 

 

Sam knew he should just tell this guy the truth right off the bat, but he couldn't put it into words. So instead, he nodded. “Uh, yeah. She is.” 

 

“I’ll be the judge of that. Come on, let's go.” 

 

Sam was so taken aback by how audacious this man was that he simply nodded and began walking. 

 

“My name is Gabriel by the way. What's yours?” 

 

“Uh, Sam. My name’s Sam.” 

 

“Nice to meet you, Sam.” 

 

“You too. . . .”

 

Fuck, what was he doing? He should say something, but this guy seemed almost excited? How was Sam supposed to tell this guy he didn't even know—well, besides the fact that he had a green thumb, because his flowers grew beautifully—what he was actually doing? Shit. How was he supposed to bring it up now? 

 

“So, Sam. How long have you lived here? I don't think I’ve seen you before you started stealing my flowers,” Gabriel said, and there was a sense of teasing in his voice. As if they were already friends and had known each other long enough that this was normal. It was. . . strange, to say the least. 

 

“I uh, I was actually going to school not far from here, right outside of Palo Alto. Some, uh, stuff happened, and now I’m here. I’ve only been here for about three months. I keep saying it's temporary, but I dunno, I kind of like it here,” Sam explained, not quite sure why he was telling all of this to a total stranger. 

 

“Stanford?” Gabriel asked, and Sam was a bit taken aback. 

 

“How’d you know?” He asked, and then realised he had just confirmed that Gabriel was right. Here came the questions. Everyone always wanted to know why a kid smart enough to get into Stanford would drop out. 

 

“Come on, kiddo. Palo Alto is only half an hour away from here. It's not that hard to figure it out. Stanford’s the only college I know in that area anyway,” Gabriel told him, and Sam had to admit that was pretty true. Stanford was the easiest guess. 

 

Sam nodded. “That's true. Yeah, Stanford.”

 

“And you dropped out?” 

 

Sam knew that question was coming. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair and over his face, and then replied with a simple, “Yeah,” hoping that it would discourage further discussion on the topic. 

 

Gabriel, apparently, was either bad at picking up on subtle clues, or chose to ignore it on purpose, because he continued. “Why? Was it because of the girl?” 

 

Sam, not wanting to explain any further, nodded. “Yeah, it was.” 

 

Gabriel’s eyes widened a fraction. “Really? Are you guys engaged or something?” 

 

Sam thanked a god he didn't believe in that they were finally approaching the gates of the cemetery and he didn’t have to answer that question. He stopped walking, and Gabriel looked concerned for a moment, then frowned. 

 

“Wait—”

 

Sam didn't wait, he walked through the open gate and down the path, occasionally glancing at the other headstones, but not really reading them. Gabriel was following quickly behind but Sam didn't really care, he was too wrapped up in the current of emotions that washed through him as he got closer to his destination. He knew the path well, he’d walked it many times. Straight past the Caldwells and the Masons, left at Celia Goldstein. Right at Christopher May, four down and three across. 

 

_ Jessica Moore.  _

 

Sam stopped in front of the headstone and kneeled down, leaning the flowers against it. 

 

“I—I’m so sorry,” Gabriel said quietly, having caught up and now awkwardly standing off to the side. 

 

Sam shook his head. He didn't say anything, he couldn't. 

 

“I. . . I didn't know. I'm sorry I pushed you—”

 

Sam held up a hand to quiet him. He couldn't hear anymore apologies from anyone. THe was tired of the wrong people apologizing. It was this random strangers fault she had died. 

 

“Jess lived here for a while. Actually, she lived here until we got an apartment together closer to campus. Not  _ here  _ here, but this town. And she loved it. Always talked about the people and the places and. . . everything. She made it seem so wonderful. When she. . . Eight months ago, our apartment building caught fire. I got out okay. She didn't. I tried to go back for her but—” 

 

Sam swallowed against the lump in his throat, blinking hard against the tears forming in his eyes. 

 

“She didn't have any family—neither did I, really—so the only logical thing to do was to bring her back here. I took care of all the funeral arrangements, and I liked it here. And I couldn't just leave her. . .” 

 

He took a deep breath, only somewhat aware of the tears now flowing freely down his face. “So I stayed. I missed the first week of classes because I kept making excuses after the funeral, and time kept passing. I kept saying I was going to go back, and. . . Well, I never did. I never registered for the semester, never went back. I'm still here. I kind of keep to myself, I got a job at the market as a bag boy. And I uh, I visit her every week, sometimes twice. Three times if I’ve had a particularly hard time. So. . . yeah. This is where your flowers have been going.” 

 

Sam heard the grass crinkling behind him, and a gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

 

Surprisingly, it was comforting.

 

“My mom is here, too,” Gabriel told him, and that's not what Sam expected. It was different, but a good different. “Six years, as of last month. I’ll be honest, it doesn't really get any easier. They say time heals all wounds, and maybe it does. But it still hurts. It hurts like hell. But you learn to cope.” 

 

Sam nodded. He hoped Gabriel was right. He doubted the loss would ever stop hurting. But he could learn to cope. 

 

“Thanks, Gabe.” 

  
“No problem, Samshine.” 


End file.
